


twenty-seven million degrees at your very core

by tiburones



Category: Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, smoochin but in a nerdy way ahehehe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29504094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiburones/pseuds/tiburones
Summary: Kon's torridity radiates from his entire form, like he's leaking fire from his fingertips and pouring it down Tim's spine.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	twenty-seven million degrees at your very core

**Author's Note:**

> so i was like "damn. romance should be explored more through a scientific lens." then banged this bad boy out in a few hours lol

Kon is a warm person. Like really warm. A by-product of being half-Kryptonian, allowing him to synthesize sunlight into whatever the hell he wants. (Bart had called him a plant when it was first explained.) 

  


Whenever he enters a room, the air around him vibrates with newfound vigor, ionized and jittery. This, of course, inevitably leads to getting shocked by any metal substance and staying well away from any complex electrical appliances. Tim knows this, it's only expected from a solar-powered, superpowered clone. It makes the little physicist in Tim crawl out of its depths just to gape at Kon's scientific marvel.

  


It turns out that Kon's hands are also very warm, warm like the rest of him, warm like miniature furnaces steaming with ashen wood. He's basically a walking generator, always has been, but his heat is so much different when it's pressed up against Tim. Kon's torridity radiates from his entire form, like he's leaking fire from his fingertips and pouring it down Tim's spine. 

  


His lips burn where they press against Tim's own. Tim feels his throat close up a little. Only it's not just his throat, it's like he's on a rollercoaster careening into a steep dive and all his organs press up against each other from the force.  _ Bright sunlight provides an illuminance of approximately ninety-eight thousand lux on a perpendicular surface at sea level _ , Tim’s physicist babbles on repeat, and  _ yes _ , Kon’s concentrating all ninety-eight thousand lumens per meter squared into blistering, white-hot, pure radiation against Tim’s skin.

  


Heat sears into Tim with his face so close, like sitting too close to the blaze of the fireplace and having the moisture of his eyes evaporate. Tim can feel how Kon’s thumb brushes lightly against his closed eyelashes, he can  _ feel _ the little sparks that ignite on their tips. 

  


And as soon as Kon’s there, he’s gone, the pressure lifting off his face and Tim's stomach unties itself from its pretzel. Kon's hands slip from their incandescent cup around Tim's face, leaving an imprint on his cheeks, incarnadining Tim's skin. Kon steps back, allows the space between them to fizzle out as atoms clash and reverberates energy into their surroundings. Tim’s still a little jittery. 

  


"You'll catch flies, Rob," he shoots Tim a little smirk over the top of his stupid teashades. 

  


Tim snaps his mouth shut before stammering, "I—You—You just—” 

  


“I did.” Kon can’t act so casual about that, he  _ can’t _ . “You didn’t like it?”

  


“No—no, I,” Tim’s neck burns a rich crimson and maybe he can pin it on the ionized air, “It was nice.” 

  


“We should do that again.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://tiiburones.tumblr.com)!


End file.
